My grandpa, Wellington Clay, was the poet in the family. He was no Walt Whitman, but he w as all we had. His poetry depended upon light humor, sentimental sentiments, and Americana. He wrote this one in about 1934:
I know a little maiden
With shapely form divine,
All dressed in latest fashion -
How I wish that she were mine.
With smiles that seem to beckon,
And luscious lips that lure,
Roguish eyes that seem to twinkle,
How can cold heart endure?
With words of honeyed sweetness,
How I address her when alone,
But she always stays unmelted.
Oh, cruel heart of stone!
How I hunger to embrace her
And warm her icy heart,
But her cold and stubborn actions
Still keep us far apart.
Would you know the cruel creature
That leaves my heart so sore?
You can find her in the window
Of Braun’s department store.
Humana, a private for-profit insurance company, under pressure from Medicare, a federal insurance program, has reinstated my health insurance coverage! Thank goodness for government oversight.
Walk Naked Day
Sent in by a wise guy (or lady):
“As you may already know, it’s a sin for a Muslim male to see any woman other than his wife naked; if he does, he must commit suicide. So next Saturday at 1 p.m. EDT, all American women are asked to walk out of their houses completely naked to help weed out any neighborhood terrorists. Circling your block for one hour is recommended for this anti-terrorist effort.”
Well, I don’t know who’s sponsoring this event, but I’ll bet it’s going nowhere around here. Might as well watch TV Saturday.
Words to the wise
“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.” —Oscar Wilde
How can you avoid spotting a wrinkle every time you walk by a mirror? Easy. Next time you’re in front of a mirror, take off your glasses.
Still more wise words
While attending a marriage seminar dealing with communication, Tom and his wife Grace listened to the instructor’s words of wisdom.
“It is essential that husbands and wives know each other’s likes and dislikes,” said the instructor. He then addressed the man. “Can you name your wife’s favorite flower?”
Tom leaned over, touched his wife’s arm gently, and whispered, “It’s Pillsbury, isn’t it?